Nothing
by PaintByGinger
Summary: I know I'm drunk but I'll say the words, and she'll listen this time even through they're slurred, dialed her number and confessed to her. I'm still in love but all I heard was nothing.


****I was listening to this song in the car and got inspired, I guess. It's EnglandFem!France. For some reason Fem!France's name is Marianne in my mind. So yeah. Enjoy.

Also I apologize for any spelling/grammatical errors.

Disclaimer: Don't own Hetalia or the song Nothing.

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><p><strong>Nothing<strong>

It starts on a dreary afternoon. They slowly start falling apart. Their fights are more often, longer.

And there's less makeup sex.

He doesn't know how or why the dynamic changes, but it does. Suddenly, they're screaming at each other over absolutely nothing, coming close to throwing plates and glasses. She tells him to get out.

Leave and don't come back.

The next week is spent on his couch. His cousin comes over to take care of him, making sure he's fed. Other than that, Arthur doesn't move. He's stuck. The scene replays in his mind, Marianne's screeching, her tears, everything they said. His stomach twists with regret.

Eventually the week passes and Alfred suggests going drinking.

_It'll be good for you. _

Arthur doesn't think so.

Thus begins the endless tirade of his cousin convincing him.

_You're better off without her, come on dude, you need to move on._

Arthur humors him. What else can he do? He knows Al. The boy will never let up. But he can't help thinking he's worse off without her. He's better off dead.

They meet up with some buddies at the bar. Matthew, a friend of Al's (and a distant relative of Marianne's), and two German brothers who can down beer like water. Arthur's in good company, but he can't help but feel empty. Not whole.

He puts up a good front. He can laugh at their jokes, but the sound is hollow. There's no longer a spark in his eyes, the ones that she once compared to emeralds reflecting firelight. Ones that she'd rave about, whisper to him about.

_I love your eyes. I 'ave never seen anything so beautiful. _

So what can Arthur do but drink whiskey, trying to forget. But the more he drinks, the more he thinks. And the more he thinks, the more he can convince himself.

She'll take him back. Of course she will. She did before. Why is now different?

He doesn't tell the others, they wouldn't understand. They're all enjoying themselves anyway, rowdily watching a football game. But not for long.

The alcohol makes its way to Arthur's head and he finds himself out on the streets, flanked by Al and Matt, shouting for Marianne. He's not drunk yet, not yet. Tipsy, yes. Inebriated, yes. But not drunk. Not fall over drunk. Not sobbing drunk. Not yet.

The boys tell him to come back inside, that he'd making a fool of himself. He won't listen, of course. He has to get to Marianne. He has to tell her. Get her back.

Al and Matt don't understand.

But he doesn't know the way to her house, his mind heavy with booze. He takes out his phone instead, her number still on speed dial.

There are three rings before she picks up, accent heavy, as if the phone woke her. And Arthur launches into his speech, words slurring. He loves her. He loves her so much it hurts. He can't be without her. She's being ridiculous. She needs to get over it because he loves her and why doesn't she understand that.

The other line is silent.

Nothing.

So Arthur decides to take matters into his own hands. He'll walk there. Matt and Al can't stop him. He's volatile when drunk. He stumbles down the road, muttering to himself. His brain can't comprehend the fact that no response is a bad response.

He manages to get to her house, pounding and leaning against the heavy wooden door. Heavy like his heart. Heavy like the emotion welling up inside of him.

She doesn't answer.

There's nothing.

He dials on his phone again.

Nothing.

He's frustrated, fists striking the door and shouting her name.

Nothing.

He stops eventually, sinking to the ground, burying his face in his hands. She doesn't want him anymore. He feels detached from his body, the love and hurt overwhelming him. But it doesn't matter.

She's still not there.

There's nothing.


End file.
